


3 things with ash

by Nyalex (crowpsychology)



Series: Botanophilia [2]
Category: OCs - Fandom
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Arson, Fire, Fluff, Not Beta Read, but that one's debatable, i think it's angsty?, normal friday night activities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29696190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowpsychology/pseuds/Nyalex
Summary: i had 3 creative writing prompts last week and i'm posting them now :)all of them are ash
Series: Botanophilia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211414





	3 things with ash

(Prompt 1: use the following text verbatim. "dark night, dark blood carrying with it a river of rage that had brought him/her to this point. And the horror of it suddenly shone with the clarity of his/her face in the mirror and…”

Ash didn’t even come there willingly. It was entirely his stubbornness and given information that led him to the apartment building, late at night. All he wanted to know was why he was chosen to bear the curse, what he had become… anything that related to his situation. He only wanted information, and he was going to get it by force if he had to.

The room he needed to get to was on the fifth floor and the elevator seemed in a constant state of disrepair, but they were so close together it didn’t take long to ascend the stairs. As he climbed, he couldn’t help but notice a sort of unique smell… it was acrid, and filled him with a sense of dread, but he couldn’t stop now.

He found that the door was unlocked and walked inside, immediately noticing something was wrong. The smell seemed stronger, and he realized it was gasoline, and the floor was damp. And then he noticed the man. “Tell me what you did.” He had to ask without hesitation, before he did something they would both regret.

“I don’t think I have to tell you that.” With a flick of the wrist, the man lit a match, throwing it onto his desk. Almost immediately, the fires burned around them both as his tormentor smiled. “It was your own choice to come here, and it’s your own choice to die. How you do so is up to you, but…” As the desk beside him crumbled into ash, he looked back and forth, a smile growing ever wider. “You do have a time limit, and it’s not a couple of hours. Ask anything you want in the meantime.”

He wanted to ask why, what, anything, but instead only found himself stepping, running forwards out of pure instinct. Grabbing the throat of the man, he jumped out of the broken window and they both fell onto the ground five stories below. But only one of them had something to fall on, and his nameless phantom was dead as soon as he fell. He looked at his reflection in the dark night, dark blood carrying with it a river of rage that brought him to this point. And the horror of it suddenly shone with the clarity of his face in the mirror and he almost felt regret on acting for his survival. But there was nothing else he could do now, and he would have done anything to be rid of the nightmares, even at the cost of making new ones. There was nothing to do but start the walk back home and pray he wasn’t detained for the blood on his shirt.

(Prompt 2: Your character experiencing a hot afternoon (this choice must focus on imagery) )

It was a sweltering summer Sunday and everyone in the house was suffering. Though most sought refuge in their own rooms, turning the lights off so only the dim rays of sun showing through their windows were the only constant sources of heat and light, Ash had other ideas. “Going out,” he said to his dad, relaxing in the darkened living room, as the TV played some strange program in the background. His dad understood many languages, but he was only fluent in one, and this was clearly not one of them.

He didn’t like the dark, and needed more sun than most did anyway, so he didn’t wait for an answer before he walked to the front of their home. Nonetheless, as he closed the first light wood door behind him, he heard his dad respond, “Good luck!” He smiled, observing the flowers in the shop that constituted the front half of their home. He was especially fond of his own sickly green venus fly traps that had a smaller spot in the sunny window, though he did love them all of course. They were larger than most of their species. and he was proud of his work. They took care of most of the bugs that sought refuge in their cooled home that day, being caught in their jaws like a bear trap.

As soon as he left the house, he realized why he was the only one on the street, though he wasn’t planning on staying in the sun for long. The air itself seemed volatile and made it hard to keep in a breath, and shimmered along the black path of the road, which he walked along to his favorite spot. He could almost feel the heat of the sidewalk through his shoes.

He dashed into the welcoming shade of the overgrown forest, and felt it immediately get cooler, moreso as he went farther into the deep. The birds, previously unheard in the light of day, grew louder, erupting into a crescendo as he reached near the center. It seemed even they needed a breather in the shade.

After a while of walking, jumping off the path and wading through the overgrown weeds, he made it to his favorite spot, a clearing near the center. Though many of the grasses and plants were trampled from his previous expeditions there, he found it was the one place to get a break from the constant talking of others, and the heat during the day. He almost wished that he brought his family, but wanted this to be his special spot for just a while longer. Finally, he was able to rest, laying down beside an overturned tree and dozing off for a short nap and break from the day.

(Prompt 3:  Choose one room in your character’s home. The goal here is to describe the room in a creative way (personifying the objects in the room is one way to accomplish this) and to reveal information about your character. For example, what dominates the room? Is it a piece of furniture? Is it a color? Is it a theme?)

As Peter walked into Ash’s room, turning on the light, he couldn’t help but notice how it had changed. When he was only a year younger, it had seemed like a much happier place, covered from wall to wall with projects and ideas that he was going to write or sing about with Nate, all connected with red lines and scribbled over in fine and messy writing.

A lot had changed since the incident that changed and scarred him. The ideas were still there, but the ones he was willing to share with his family were fewer, and the research on what had happened to him was the only thing on his desk. He understood his thoughts, all both wanted to do was understand, but it seemed like a growing obsession that would someday envelop and destroy him like a slowly growing inferno.

It seemed like he took care of himself less and less. He hadn’t even bothered to make the bed anymore, while before he would risk being late to school so long as his room was clean. Empty cups were on his nightstand, though he had at least had enough ability to bring down his trash and plates.

For a while, he thought about bringing him to a therapist to talk about his problems, though Ash would grow nervous at the thought. He looked away, trying to excuse himself back to his room as soon as the thought arose, though he knew keeping it unclean would only allow himself to further continue the cycle of decline.

At least he had kept reading, keeping a steady increase of books on his shelf, though the subject matter seemed increasingly dark and arcane. He was just worried, but there was nothing he could do that wouldn’t violate his son’s personal space or do something only one side wanted to, and he could never do that. He would try and bring the topic up again once he had finally calmed down, he supposed.

He walked back out when he heard the shop door opening, followed by a laughing conversation. The oldest children were home from school, and it was time to get back to work.


End file.
